


Hope for the Holidays

by Cornerofmadness



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28077876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: Malcolm is mentally struggling with the first anniversary of his kidnapping by Watkins but his friends and his family give him hope for a nice holiday.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jessica Whitly
Comments: 18
Kudos: 30
Collections: Prodigal Son Holidays Fic Exchange





	1. Struggling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dmdys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dmdys/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** Not mine, Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver owns it
> 
>  **Notes:** Written for the Prodigal Son Holiday Exchange 2020. This was written for Dmdys who gave two prompts one for some angsty gen fic of Malcolm, maybe coping with his trauma and the second for a holiday fic, like, where Jessica has invited Gil to spend the holidays and that's how Malcolm and Ainsley find out they're together? And like, Malcolm already knew but kept quiet, and Ainsley is like YES MOM and it's just a sweet fluffy holiday. I decided I could absolutely smoosh these two together and I did! So it’s angsty at the start with a sweet fluffy finish. Also it fulfils my First Holiday as a Couple prompt at allbingo. (and yes it does have a bit alt timeline to it because I didn’t want to write Covid into a fluffy holiday story!) Thanks to Rikki Wilde for the title help. Happy holidays, Dmdys. I hope you enjoy this.

Chapter One

Malcolm squeezed the stuffed lion Dr. Le Deux had in her office when he settled into a chair. She had listened to him for a few minutes but when he trailed off, she leaned forward.

“Have you given any more thought to contacting any of those psychiatrists I suggested?” The tiredness in her voice said she knew he hadn’t.

Malcolm didn’t know why. He’d had a psychiatrist when he was in Virginia. Coming home seemed to have wound his clock back a decade. “I’m not good with change.” Another lie and he thought she knew it but said nothing.

“Malcolm, in the last year you’ve been through far too much,” she said. “You would benefit from regimented therapy.”

He flicked his tongue over his lips. Earlier in the year, just after everything with Endicott, she had made a similar observation. At that point she meant he should check himself into a mental hospital for intensive care. Now, he assumed she meant he needed to go on a weekly or bi-weekly therapy schedule. Either way, he wasn’t interested even though he knew he should be. “I feel like I’m getting adequate care.”

She tightened her lips, exhaling through her nose softly. “It’s nearly been a year since you were kidnapped.”

He clenched his jaw this time, averting his gaze. That had been weighing on his mind. The closer that date came, the more nightmares he had. He was barely sleeping at this point. What he needed more than anything was what his mother called an ‘epic nap,’ and was half tempted to take her up on her barbiturates idea. Only that fixed nothing. It just medicated him to the point nothing mattered anymore. He wanted to hope for something more helpful than that. “I know, doctor. I’ve been thinking about it, mulling over what I did wrong.”

“You’re not going to be alone this holiday, are you?” She tapped her finger against her note pad, her soft eyes boring into him.

“No,” he answered honestly. “I’ll be with my mother and sister and, oh, Gil, is supposed to be coming over for the holiday. I’m glad of that. He’s been alone since his wife died.” Malcolm suspected that wasn’t entirely true, the part about him being alone. He was ninety-five percent certain Gil had been seeing his mom ever since he got out of the hospital but neither of them had mentioned a thing to Malcolm. He wasn’t sure why they were keeping it secret or maybe the truth was in the remaining five percent: something he imagined. That had been a fervent wish as a kid that Gil and his mother would fall in love but it hadn’t happened. Now as an adult, his feelings about the idea were more complex but not ones he wanted to air in front of his shrink.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. You’ve been through so much, being alone at this time of year would only make it harder even if you’re not particularly religious. There is a lot of social pressure put on everyone around the holidays.”

He nodded but added nothing. He wasn’t doing particularly well in this session. He was afraid of what Le Deux would make of that. 

“Between your kidnapping and injuries, losing Eve, being framed for murder and seeing your sister kill someone, no one would blame you if you took a long rest somewhere, Malcolm.”

Ah, so she _was_ floating the mental hospital idea again. He scowled. That seemed at odds with the not being alone for the holidays idea. “I’m okay, Doctor Le Deux. It was rough, not going to lie. You helped me through those first months while we were waiting to see if self-defense would be accepted by the D.A.” 

Malcolm had feared it wouldn’t be, not after one Whitly had gotten off light for a string of murders. But a little quick work with planting a weapon on Endicott – how could he not? His sister had been in a dissociative figure but who would have believed that? Also, Endicott _was_ an imminent threat – the D.A. had gone for the self-defense plea. Malcolm didn’t doubt how much of the justice system Endicott had bought had gone a long way into clearing Ainsley. The D.A. didn’t want a bigger spot light turned on that problem. 

“Malcolm, you are not okay. You have been in crisis since you’ve returned to New York,” Le Deux replied, bluntly. “You have been resistant to anything I’ve said.”

“Not entirely true. I have done many of the things you’ve suggested,” he protested, his mind flicking to Eve. Well he had gotten laid, hadn’t he? It didn’t stop all his nightmares and now Eve featured in them so that advice hadn’t been that helpful. Granted it wasn’t the good doctor’s fault he was broken inside. Eddie and Endicott were to blame for the most recent breakage. “I do value your advice, Dr. Le Deux. I just don’t….” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to commit myself.”

If he did, Gil probably wouldn’t be able to hire him back. It wasn’t fair. Mental illness still wasn’t treated like the disease it was. He could keep going like he was. If he said it once, he’d said it a dozen times. He was a hot mess that worked.

“I think you should make an appointment with Doctor Beldon. She is very well versed in trauma therapy. She might have ideas that you and I haven’t tried.”

Malcolm drew a deep breath in and then nodded. He didn’t want to verbally commit or just flat out lie. His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Sorry. I know I’m supposed to turn it off.” He glanced at the screen. “It’s work.”

She made little shooing motions with her fingers. “We only had ten minutes left. Think about it, Malcolm. I think Doctor Beldon in particular can help you more than I can.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Happy holidays, Dr. Le Deux.”

Malcolm grabbed another fistful of suckers on his way out. He popped a watermelon one in his mouth, rolling it back and forth in over his tongue enjoying the sweetness as he sauntered toward the subway. He didn’t know why he was being summoned back to the station. He hoped they didn’t catch a major case just in time for the holiday. His mother would have a fit if Gil didn’t show up for Christmas Eve dinner.


	2. Best Friends

Chapter Two

Malcolm was half asleep, head on his hand, propped up against the wall at his desk. The summons had been nothing more than a tying up of some loose ends from their last case. Moreover, he thought Gil just wanted eyeballs on him for the same reason Dr. Le Deux had wanted him to go in for intensive psychiatric care: he was worried about the first anniversary of his kidnapping and torture by Watkins. He would tell Gil what he told Le Deux, he was fine. Gil would know it was a lie.

“If anyone needs coffee, it’s you,” Dani said, startling him into full awareness. 

He stared up at her with a soft smile. “I cannot argue that.”

“Come on, I’m buying.”

Malcolm glanced at his watch. It was nearly time to clock off for the day, not that he was on the clock per se as a consultant. Gil had his door shut, and JT was out on paternity leave so it was just him and Dani on the team at the moment so if she was leaving he could go too. “Sure. You don’t have to buy me coffee.”

“I’d buy you dinner if I thought you’d eat it.” Dani grinned. “Just because you’re the one with all the money doesn’t mean you have to treat every time.”

“Thanks.”

To his surprise, they didn’t walk to the nearby coffee shop. Dani drove to one much further away. It had a small parking lot that she crammed her car into with the ease of someone born to city life. He had been too but relying on drivers most of his life meant he never developed the prerequisite skills. Gil had tried to interest Malcolm in cars, tried and failed. The closest Malcolm had ever come was the time he had rented a sports car in Harvard to try and impress a girl, another tried and failed moment. 

Malcolm studied the small building whose sign simply read _Our Spot_. “A favorite place?”

Dani nodded. “It’s a book store, coffee shop and makers’ space.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do you do crafts, Dani?”

She made a face. “Do I strike you as a crafter?”

“Honestly, no. Edrisa maybe but not you.”

“My grandmother likes to come here and knit. She gives lessons to the novices. She says it keeps her young.”

“Is she here now?” A slightly shrill tone crept into his voice. Dani made that scrunched half smile, half biting her lip so she wouldn’t laugh thing that she did. He did sound a bit panicked but also a skosh interested in meeting her grandmother.

“No. I just thought it would be a nice place to talk.” The amusement disappeared off her face, replaced with something deadly serious. “You did say you liked talking to me.”

Malcolm caught himself wetting his lips again. This wasn’t just a friendly cup of coffee then. He was at her mercy in a place he didn’t know. They were going to have a _talk_. Damn, he must not have been hiding his mental agitation as well as he thought he was. Granted all he had to do was call for an Uber or his mother to send Adolpho if it got too harsh but he appreciated Dani trying to reach out to him. His mother had said she was his best friend. There was a certain amount of truth about that.

“Okay.”

He let her lead the way into the shop. A big wreath with miniature cups and books on it amidst the red and white ribbons hung on the door. The smells of coffee, cinnamon, caramel, and a rich floral tea tickled his nose the moment they were inside. There were hallways to either side of the coffee bar, leading back into what he bet was a rabbit warren of little rooms. He studied the drinks menu. A Gingerbread Latte sounded intriguing but with the way his stomach had been playing up, he decided to just go with a peppermint mocha. 

He followed Dani into the rabbit warren, and she took him to an inner room near an old fireplace that was probably central to the building a century before. Two big overstuffed and well-worn chairs had been plopped in front of it with a small table between. The chair proved to be comfortable and his drink super pepperminty. He sighed softly. “Thanks for this. It’s delicious.”

“Honestly, not what I thought you’d go for.” Dani had ordered a simple coffee of the day.

“My stomach has been…”

“A jerk?”

He snorted. “Not the word I was looking for but accurate. Mint helps with nausea, and this is a very good drink.”

“You’re almost smiling.”

He allowed himself a bigger smile.

“There you go.” Dani grinned. “You looked nervous.”

“Is there another appropriate response for ‘we need to talk’?”

“I suppose not. But before we get into that I have something for you.” Dani opened her small purse and pulled out a brilliantly red envelope and handed it to him.

He glanced between it and her, trying to puzzle it out. He hoped it wasn’t a gift. She had made a big deal of it a few weeks back: no gifts for partners. She had been equally as clear that he was only allowed to buy the Tarmels a gift off the baby registry. Malcolm got it. He didn’t lord his wealth over people but sometimes he forgot what was normal for him was far and above what his friends would consider an average gift. He opened it and inside was a hand cut snowflake. On the back in some of the worst doctor’s handwriting he’d ever seen was an invitation to what he thought was a Winter’s Solstice party but it literally could have been anything. An address had been printed on it. He was able to make out Edrisa’s name on the invite.

He beetled up his brow. “A party invite?”

“Every year Edrisa throws a winter solstice party. Last year you were too busy being torn up about the FBI being around, and she wasn’t entirely sure how the others would see you being there. This year she’s like who cares what others think. You’re her friend, and she wants you there.”

“But why are you giving it to me?”

Dani averted her gaze, suddenly interested in all the Christmas swag on the old mantle. “You’ve been…not quite yourself in the last couple of weeks. You’ve been anxious and short tempered, and she’s prepared for you to say no. We all know how you dodge events your mother invites you to. None of us are sure if that’s because you’re a bit introverted and hate parties or if you’re just trying to get disinherited.” Her lips quirked up a little as she tried to joke. “Anyhow, I don’t think Edrisa could handle it if you said no to her face.”

Malcolm stared at the snowflake, heat rising up his face. The feeling he was the worst person in the world settled into him like a second skin. “Have I really been that bad?”

Dani reached out and stilled his hand. He hadn’t even realized it had begun trembling. “We all know you’re having trouble with things right now. Everything with Eve and Endicott….” She trailed off, studying the pinecone filled sleigh by the fireplace. “And it’s almost a year since Watkins grabbed you. We get that you’re struggling.”

He dipped his chin toward his chest, pulling a long face. “That doesn’t excuse bad behavior on my part. Honestly, I’m shocked that neither you nor JT kicked my butt for me.”

“Like I said, we get you’re in pain.”

Malcolm raked his gaze over her. Dani still wasn’t quite looking at him. He wanted to slip his hand out of hers because he felt unworthy of her friendship. Instead he turned it so he could give her fingers a quick squeeze before withdrawing his hand. He set it on his thigh. It wasn’t shaking hard now, just fine trembles. “Even so.”

“I just thought I could be a go between.”

“I’ll go,” he replied quickly. “Of course, I will. I don’t go with Mother because…I’m not a good son sometimes. I just hate all those phonies. I spend my days observing people, picking apart their motivations and all I can see with the people at those events are fake friendships, talking to who they think can help their cause, mocking them behind their backs. They are _awful _to my mother, Dani, simply awful. It hurts to watch them snipe at her, twenty years down the line as if she were the one out there with a scalpel. I wish she wouldn’t go but she was bred to this. It’s what she knows and where she finds comfort. I can’t deny her that but it’s hard to be a part of it, even if I enjoy some of the events she attends.”__

__“Like the ballet?”_ _

__He wrinkled his nose. “Was I that obvious?”_ _

__“No, but I overheard Gil talking about how you saved the prima by talking dance and I asked him if you knew how to dance. He was shocked you had never told him before that you studied ballet.” Dani grinned. “Tis the season to see you dance the Nutcracker.”_ _

__Malcolm chuckled ruefully. “It’s been too many years. It might literally _be_ a Nutcracker if I tried.”_ _

__Dani twisted on her chair, staring at him with wide eyes and a hand over her mouth, trying not to spit take her coffee as she swallowed back a laugh. “Did you just make a dick joke? You’re right. You _aren’t_ well.”_ _

__He wagged his head. “No ballet for me, not anymore but I did enjoy it. I should have gone with Mother that day. Maybe I could have….” He let it trail off. His mother would have fallen for Endicott as soon as the man tried for her. She’d been starved for attention. Him being there would only have made Endicott enjoy it more. “Anyhow, I’ll text Edrisa and let her know I can be there. What are these parties like?”_ _

__“This year it’ll be small. Gil will be there. JT and Tally won’t, not with the new baby who is just the cutest.”_ _

__“I know. JT texts me a new picture daily. You’d think he was the one with a brain completely rearranged by pregnancy hormones.” Malcolm smiled, thinking on the picture of JT holding his child that had been texted over this morning._ _

__“He is getting a little twee.” Dani chuckled. “But he’s proud.”_ _

__“As he should be.”_ _

__“Usually some of the lab people are there and friends from Edrisa’s outside interests. Honestly, you’d probably fit in perfectly with them.”_ _

__Malcolm side eyed her. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.”_ _

__Dani pushed back a lock of hair and took a sip of her coffee. “That I’m not sure why I’m your best friend when you have an insane amount of things in common with Edrisa. Not complaining, just a little baffled.”_ _

__“I do and I should share in those things more than I do. I truly am out of practice with friends.” He slugged back some of the mocha. “And you ground me, Dani. Edrisa and I would just be like two kites on the wind. We’d get lost in our own heads.”_ _

__“Is that why you said you like talking to me?” She cocked her head to the side as she studied him._ _

__“In a way, yes I guess it is. But I think it’s mostly because you listen to me, truly listen. You don’t bring your own crayons to color inside my lines. Edrisa does. She has a much rosier picture of me than is reality. I appreciate it. It’s nice to have someone a hundred percent on my side but I think she has me on such a high pedestal that it’ll be Humpty Dumpty all over again when I fall.” He sighed, staring at his hands. They were a mess, the winter cold having its way with his skin. He’d slacked off on his self-care regime, another outward sign of the chaos inside his head. “You listen and you offer your thoughts even if you disagree with me.”_ _

__“You can’t possibly like that part.”_ _

__“No one does but I do need it sometimes. Even if you’re wrong and I’m right, it forces me to reevaluate myself and the things I’m doing and saying. What if I’m wrong? What if I’m right? It takes me outside of my head and makes me look at it from another angle. That is a weakness of mine, if the FBI is to be believed and of all the things they accused me of, that is the closest to being true.” He squirmed on his chair. “I’m arrogant. I’m confident in my decisions, and sometimes I don’t listen to the team.”_ _

__“More than sometimes. But more often than not you’re right. And you don’t do it in a dismissive way. You listen to me too, and JT. Occasionally Gil, but not so much.” She smiled faintly. “But he’s dad and who listens to parents?”_ _

__“I’m terrible with that one. Mother will tell you as much. I think I like talking to you so much Dani, because you believe that even with my deepest, ugliest problems, I am fixable. I don’t believe it but you do so strongly in fact that it made me rethink that too. I don’t know why I came to trust you so quickly but I haven’t regretted it.”_ _

__Malcolm meant that. Not even when things had gotten their darkest with him under arrested and Dani not believing him, he still didn’t regret his trust in her. She was the first he turned to when he asked about tracing Sophie’s number. He trusted her more now because she never asked about it even though he knew Dani had to suspect it had led him somewhere. He still had plausible deniability when it came to Sophie’s guilt. He couldn’t prove she had killed Eddie so him covering for her wasn’t as bad as it could be. He also knew he was lying to himself but for now he planned to keep that lie up._ _

__“Good because that’s why I asked you here. You’ve withdrawn from everyone, and I’m not even sure you realize it. We haven’t talked for weeks, not like this, not like friends. It’s all been work and you slipping away at the end of the day. I’m _worried_. Edrisa is too and I’m sure you know exactly how Gil feels. If JT was in the office, he’d be worried as well.” Dani sipped nervously at her drink. “I needed to be sure that Stephen King Movie Theater in your head wasn’t playing double features right now.”_ _

__Malcolm felt the sudden rush of tears welling up. He barely kept them back, one or two slipping past his control. He brushed them away. “It’s playing a marathon. It’s _bad _. I’ve been in the basement with Watkins so many times the last several nights or in the cabin….or Mother’s living room.”___ _

____“Bright, are you talking to anyone else about this? I think-”_ _ _ _

____He held up a hand. “I was at Dr. Le Deux’s this morning. She wants me to see another doctor, one who specializes in trauma. And she’s been floating the idea of voluntary commitment.”_ _ _ _

____“Bright,” Dani broke in, and he looked away. “Malcolm,” she added in a softer tone. “Do you think that might help?”_ _ _ _

____He shook his head. “I’m good when I’m working, Dani. I truly am. In a place like that, with nothing to do but think, I would probably decompensate and just come to pieces.”_ _ _ _

____“It wouldn’t be like Claremont.”_ _ _ _

____“No, I know that but with nothing but therapy sessions and more pills, stronger pills, I just don’t think it’s what I need. What I need…is this, I need friends and family. I need people to talk to, to remind myself I’m not alone in this. I need _hope_. I have a doctor. Maybe I will contact Dr. Beldon like Dr. Le Deux wants me to. I guess I shouldn’t fight it as hard as I do. I did have other doctors in Virginia after all. If I went away, I’m afraid… what if Gil wasn’t allowed to hire me back.”_ _ _ _

____Dani said nothing, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue. She couldn’t say anything to that before Malcolm knew just how close it had come a couple of times with his employment. Chopping off Nico’s hand, shocking the precinct into a black out, failing his evaluation with Coppenrath even though that was a sting, being arrested, being subjected to his sister’s fury as she killed Endicott, all of those things had nearly ended in his termination. Malcolm had no idea what he’d do if he lost this job. It didn’t bare thinking about because he wasn’t sure there would be a future. He had to hold it together because if he couldn’t now, he might never have this chance again._ _ _ _

____“Just let’s make an agreement to talk more,” he offered her that._ _ _ _

____Dani nodded. “That sounds good.”_ _ _ _

____“And not just as if you were my therapist. Tell me stuff that’s bugging you or making you happy or whatever. That’s what friends do, right? They share.”_ _ _ _

____She smiled before she took another drink. Theirs had been something of a one-way street as far as that went. Dani didn’t tell him things often but what she did tell him was important. For instance, he knew very little about her._ _ _ _

____“I love that JT and Tally are sending me pictures. I love that Edrisa invites me to various things, not just this party. I like knowing about my friends. Like the fact your grandma knits.” He grinned, happy she had shared that tidbit. “And I wish she would teach you.”_ _ _ _

____Dani stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Whatever for?”_ _ _ _

____“Because I just had a ludicrous flash in my head of you taking down a suspect with nothing but a knitting needle and a ball of yarn.”_ _ _ _

____“You are strange, Bright.” She laughed._ _ _ _

____“You could do damage with a needle, just saying. Also, I never had anyone who could make an afghan, you know the ones I mean, the ones with dubious color choices that are over the back of every couch in America somewhere.”_ _ _ _

____Dani rolled her eyes. “That’s crocheting, and Grandma can do that too. Are you hinting you want an afghan for Christmas because I already said no gifts?”_ _ _ _

____“My family didn’t _do_ stuff like that. I think there is something nice in a handmade object. We’ve always been a buy it if you want it crowd.”_ _ _ _

____“Fine, I’ll have Grandma teach _you_ how to crochet,” Dani replied as she raised a hand to a tall, dark, middle-aged woman who walked by. Her box braids were dyed a brilliant amethyst. Malcolm took in her jewelry, all semi-precious stones wrapped in silver. “Hi, Eleanor.”_ _ _ _

____“Hello, Dani.” Eleanor’s gaze slid to him. “Brought a friend?”_ _ _ _

____“My partner, our forensic profiler, Malcolm Bright. This is Eleanor, one of the owners of the Our Spot.”_ _ _ _

____“Nice to meet you, Eleanor. This is a very nice space, and I like your jewelry. Did you make it?” he said, taking an educated guess._ _ _ _

____Eleanor smiled, stroking the amethyst and moonstone pendant she wore. “Yes, thank you very much. It’s nice to meet you as well.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m trying to talk Bright into lessons with my Grandma.”_ _ _ _

____Eleanor chuckled. “Now wouldn’t that be a sight. I’ll let you two talk. Nice seeing you, Dani.”_ _ _ _

____Eleanor sauntered off to mingle with other patrons. Bright watched her go, and then turned to Dani. “She really does do nice jewelry.”_ _ _ _

____“I know. I covet some of it but where would I wear it? It’s all a little big for work.”_ _ _ _

____Bright followed Eleanor’s path with his eyes. “There’s always an excuse to wear good jewelry if Mother is to be believed.”_ _ _ _

____“Bright, you _do_ remember what I said about the no-gifts thing.” Dani nudged his foot with her toe._ _ _ _

____He sighed and sifted back around in his seat. He’d really like to get Dani something for putting up with him for more than a year, Edrisa too while he was at it. “I haven’t forgotten. So, besides Edrisa’s winter solstice party, do you have other plans for the holidays?”_ _ _ _

____She shook her head. “Just hoping not to get called out over the holiday itself. You know how it is at holiday time.”_ _ _ _

____Malcolm nodded. Too much family togetherness often ended with calls to homicide._ _ _ _

____“I’ll just be chilling with the family. You?”_ _ _ _

____“Same,” he replied._ _ _ _

____Dani rolled her eyes. “Your family doesn’t do chill, Bright.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh, not true. Mother will have a bit too much wine with her valium and probably drop some barbiturates into my drink when I’m not looking. We’ll be mellow,” he replied, unable to stop the bitterness. “No one else will show up, no matter who she invites. It’ll just be her and her two not-entirely-sane children like always. Only hopefully this time I won’t be kidnapped by a serial killer and oh, Gil will be there.”_ _ _ _

____Dani raised her eyebrows at him. “Are you okay?”_ _ _ _

____“No, I am not,” he replied, and she lost coloring. “I am afraid to be at Mother’s. Isn’t that strange? I wish we just had the party at Gil’s and stayed in his guest rooms or something.” Or something was right. He suspected Gil and his mother would not be in separate rooms. He remained ninety-five percent sure of that but they still hadn’t said anything to him for whatever reason._ _ _ _

____“Have you told her that?”_ _ _ _

____He shook his head. “No, because tradition is important to her. Dani, my mother has had her whole world shattered and she’s rebuilt what she could. Nicholas Endicott came along and ruined part of that too. I can be the son who shows up at her home because it makes her happy.”_ _ _ _

____“But you deserve to be happy too.”_ _ _ _

____“I am, honest. Yes, I’d rather it be elsewhere but the place isn’t as important as the people, right? For all their many faults, and my own, I love my family.” Malcolm sipped his coffee, and then snorted almost getting it up his nose. “Sorry, was just thinking this time last year I was dealing with Colette again, and she was always convinced I had Mommy issues.”_ _ _ _

____Dani rolled her eyes extravagantly “I know. She told me. I’m like how do you not see it’s all Daddy issues? His mother merely annoys him from time to time. She’s so high drama I can see why, no offense.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s hard to take offense to the truth. My mother loves her drama. It’s Gil that’s confounding me.”_ _ _ _

____“I was going to ask about that. You said he was coming over. To keep an eye on you or….your mother _did_ spend an awful lot of time in the hospital with him. I chalked it up to them knowing each other for years and him getting hurt on her behalf. Also she does visit him at work but I assumed that mostly to yell at him for whatever nonsense you’ve gotten yourself into.”_ _ _ _

____Malcolm’s breathing hitched a bit at the reminder of Gil’s injuries. He had not come to terms with it in the least. “I don’t know for sure. If you asked me to put it in a profile, I’d say they’re a couple. A couple who are hiding it from me and Ainsley for some reason. I didn’t press them on it, figuring they’d say something when it’s time. Two worlds are colliding in ye ol’ Milton Manor and who knows how that’s going to work out. I know my dad thinks something is going on. He brings it up every time I visit.”_ _ _ _

____Dani gave him a look but said nothing. He knew she was on the do-not-visit-him team. His was a team of one, maybe two if he counted Ainsley._ _ _ _

____“Anyhow, I’ll be okay over Christmas.”_ _ _ _

____“If you’re not, you know you can text me or call.”_ _ _ _

____“You’ll be with your family, Dani.” He made a face. He didn’t want to disturb her on her time off. Friends or not it seemed like an imposition too far._ _ _ _

____Dani reached out and gave his hand another squeeze. “Call or text, Bright. That’s an order. If you’re struggling, you call.”_ _ _ _

____He smiled. “You are special, Dani.”_ _ _ _

____“And don’t you forget it.”_ _ _ _

____How could he? He could count his friends on his fingers. Christmas looked a little brighter knowing he had someone in his corner willing to help him with his struggle and not just medicate it away which was his family’s method of dealing. With Dani on his side, he didn’t have to lay everything on Gil. That alone was a merry Christmas._ _ _ _


	3. Hopes for a Silent Night

Chapter Three

Malcolm turned on the Christmas tree lights even though it wasn’t quite dark enough for them yet. He felt in the mood for the pin points of jeweled light. There was always something hopeful about a Christmas tree. He’d had a blast at Edrisa’s Yule party a few days before. He’d gone home a little tipsy between his meds and the absolute killer egg nog and honey bourbon concoction she and Dani kept feeding him…or trying to keep him out of. Malcolm was hazy on which it was, and he had woken up, face down on his couch with no real memory of how he’d gotten there.

Texted pictures from Dani and Edrisa filled in some of the blanks. He’d made them promise to delete a couple of them. He knew they hadn’t. What he hadn’t expected was for the party to have been at Edrisa’s family’s summer house upstate and in the woods. That was another reason Edrisa had worried he’d say no. Cabins in the woods and he weren’t the best mix anymore. 

Some of Edrisa’s friends were druids and other pagans and somehow he found himself outside lighting yule logs and dancing around the fire to welcome the sun king. He’d mixed wassail with the egg nog, a potent blending of drinks as it turned out. Something called Sun King soup and some fried honey cakes ended up his dinner. Who had convinced him to nibble on roasted leg of lamb? 

Also, apparently, he was the perfect target in a game called Never Have I Ever. It was after that game he didn’t quite remember the rest of the night other than Dani saying he was more adventurous than she thought. It had taken days to feel completely himself again. No more lamb for him.

Malcolm would miss the easy laughter of Edrisa’s Yule party. Mother’s Christmas parties were usually much more somber and sad affairs. She wanted so much for people to visit her and spend time but no one came, not even family members for the most part. Even he’d been a jerk more than once and had ‘some case’ he couldn’t get away from. He’d been contemplating that last year right up until Shannon got his throat cut and Watkins took him hostage. Christmas was usually just him and Ainsley, another who often ‘had a job to do’ absentee and his mother, sitting and maybe talking and mostly drinking. He had hopes that this year would be better. 

Hearing someone at the front door, Malcolm tore himself away from the family room tree and his increasingly darkening thoughts. Did he just get a glimpse of Louise carrying something upstairs? He knew she’d be on her way home to her own family soon. Dinner was ready in the kitchen. All they needed to do was serve themselves. His mother hovered at the front door. Ainsley came down the stairs and arched her eyebrows at him. He shrugged at her unasked question. He wasn’t sure what their mother was doing either.

She opened the front door and Gil bustled in with two cat carriers instantly confirming all the suspicions Malcolm had been carrying for months. Ainsley’s supremely puzzled face made him chuckle and he had to clench his jaw trying to keep it in. The laugh rumbled in his chest. Gil set the two carriers down and shook out his hands.

“You could have asked for help,” Malcolm said. 

“I had it,” Gil protested over Crowley’s loud meow. The sleek black cat had his face pressed against the door, testing it with his teeth. The half Burmese, half Shorthair had something to say about everything. He was the personification of demanding feline godhood, knowing full well why the Egyptians had defied his kind. Aziraphale had his head buried in the back of the box and all Malcolm could see was a huge amount of grey floof pushing through the gridwork on the door.

“The basement door is locked as is the attic door,” Mother said, gesturing to the ceiling. “Hopefully, this won’t be a complete disaster.”

Gil chuckled. “They’re usually well behaved but they’ve never seen a space this big. We should probably start off in the family room and go from there. Let’s put them in there, and I’ll put the litter box in the downstairs bathroom. It’ll be the easiest space to clean. I still have that out in the car.” 

He grabbed up Aziraphale’s box again and before either he or Malcolm could get Crowley, Malcolm’s mother picked it up and led the way to the family room where the smaller of the Christmas trees sat. Ainsley jogged down the steps and stared him right in the eye.

“What is going on?”

“Oh, I think you know.” He grinned.

Ainsley narrowed her eyes. “I had no idea. But you did! I can see it in your eyes.” She shoved his shoulder lightly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I figured you knew too. I mean, you’re always telling me you’re as good a detective as I am.” Malcolm smirked and knew he was within a second of getting impaled on a high heel.

“But…why hide it?”

“Oh, I can think of several reasons. They might not have wanted us flailing around with our opinions.”

Ainsley shoved him again. “As if it would be anything other than ‘way to go, Mom’?”

“Or they wanted to be sure it would work. Face it, they are absolutely two different worlds colliding.”

She shrugged, giving him that point. “And you didn’t even hint at it to me.”

“When they were ready to tell us, I assumed they would.”

“How are we playing this?”

Malcolm cocked his head to the side. “We be our normal selves?”

She sighed gustily at him. “And you know Mom expects us to stay the night. It’s going to be…weird.”

“My plan, in its entirety, is to make sure the cats aren’t under my bed, and I’m shutting myself in. Besides, I put noise canceling headphones in with my wrists restraints and mouth guard in my suitcase.”

Ainsley glared. “We both could have prepared for…yeah, not even going there, had you said something.”

“Like I said, I thought you were as good a detective as me.”

Ainsley gave him a look that promised him payback when he least expected it. Gil reappeared around the corner with their mother right behind him. 

“Anything else I can help you get from the car, Gil?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got it unless you want to carry in a litter box.”

“I would like to not touch that.”

“Didn’t think so, kid.” Gil disappeared out the front door.

Their mother crossed her arms over her chest and give them a look. “What are you two conspiring about?”

“Plans for the evening. You look good in green, Mother,” Malcolm said.

“He was telling me he knew about you and Gil all along.” Ainsley threw him straight under the bus. Malcolm wasn’t sure why he was surprised. She’d been quick to do it ever since they were little kids.

Mother arched an eyebrow at them. “And just what do you think you know?”

“That I’m very happy for you.” Malcolm smiled.

Ainsley gave her a hug. “Seriously, happy for you. Gil is a great guy.”

She melted a little. “For once,” she whispered, no doubt thinking of their father, of Endicott and all the other mistakes in her life.

“Starting to snow out there,” Gil said, coming back with the litter box. He studied them a second. “Did I miss something?”

“Just them finally figuring it out.” She hugged Malcolm tight before giving him a little push toward the family room.

“To be fair, I’m pretty sure Malcolm’s known for a while,” Gil said.

“Just minding my own business until you were ready to tell me,” he replied.

“And he spends more time with you than I do,” Ainsley said. “Or I might have been quicker to pick up on it too. We’re glad you’re here, Gil.”

“Thank you. Let me go set all of this up and then do we have a little time before dinner? I want to see how the furry monsters are doing before we eat. I might put them in the bathroom for a while during dinner.”

“I thought you said they were well behaved, not furry monsters.” Mother shot Gil the gimlet eye.

“He lied.” Malcolm chuckled. “Aziraphale is like his namesake but Crowley is an instigator.”

“You never did tell me how your cats got such weird names,” his mother said.

“They’re from Neil Gaiman’s _Good Omens_. I really liked that book,” Gil said.

“I’ll have to read it,” she said.

Malcolm stayed rooted for a second as he tried to picture his mother reading that book. To be fair, she did read, a lot more than most people credited her for. Gil went to set up the litter and in the meantime, Malcolm slipped into the closed off family room with Ainsley. Crowley, as he predicted was brazenly exploring the room. Aziraphale was still in his box, staring out, not particularly happy.

Malcolm scooped the huge Maine Coon out from the box and sat with him in his lap on the couch. Aziraphale’s fur tickled through his fingers like silk. There was something profoundly comforting about petting a cat. Aziraphale’s happy rumbling purr vibrated against Malcolm’s belly. 

“Now I see why Mom was setting up nutcrackers with air cannisters inside them in front of all the trees.” Ainsley grinned. “I guess they go off if the cats go near the trees.”

Malcolm nodded. “It’ll probably keep Aziraphale away. Crowley’s more stubborn but they don’t get into Gil’s tree. Right now, back home, Sunshine is in _my_ tree, and I left her there. She was not about to come out.”

Ainsley chuckled. “I bet that’s a picture.”

“In fact, I have a few on my camera.”

“Speaking of which, smile for me.” Ainsley whipped her phone up and Malcolm complied. At least it would be a better picture than him cavorting around the campfire, his tie in hand. “That cat is such a chonky monster.”

Malcolm scratched under Aziraphale’s chin. “Ignore her. She doesn’t know you’re supposed to be a little soft in the middle.”

“There’s a little soft and then there’s big enough to float over the Macy’s Day parade.”

He chuckled. “So mean, so very true.”

Ainsley flopped down next to him on the couch. “You okay, brother?”

“In general, not so much but I am tonight. I wasn’t thrilled about being here.” Her face lost color and he instantly regretted bringing it up. “But I had a very good party with my friends.”

‘Oh, I know.” Ainsley rocked back against the couch cushion, laughing. “You drunk dialed Mom.”

“I did not!” His hand stilled on Aziraphale’s back, creeping horror overtaking him. “Did I?”

“Oh yeah. She called me as triumphant as if you had earned another degree from Harvard or something. You being a holiday drunk is about as normal as you’ve gotten in forever.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Thanks for nothing. She could have said something.”

“And make you all embarrassed like you are now? That’s what you have me for, Malcolm.”

“I told them I’d rather have a puppy than a sibling but did they listen?” He huffed.

“Can you see Mom with a puppy?”

“I can’t see her with cats and yet here we are.”

“Here we are what?” Mother asked, opening the door. Gil followed her in.

“We have cats.” Malcolm pointed to the large ball of fur on his lap.

“Oh good, you got him out of his cage. I was afraid he’d spend all night in there,” Gil said.

“He looked in need of a hug,” Malcolm agreed. “So, the cats?”

“Your mother said let’s try it.” Gil shrugged.

“Quit dancing around, Malcolm.” Ainsley popped off the couch and gave their mother a huge hug. “Now why have you been keeping this a secret?” She gestured between their mother and Gil.

“Some things need time. This seemed like the right time.” She held out a hand to Gil who took it. “I have a daughter who might like to meddle and a son who will overthink everything. I needed to do this in my own way.”

“Meddle?” Ainsley arched her eyebrow so like their mother. Malcolm wondered if she realized that. “Regardless I’m happy for you. I’m still annoyed at this one for saying he’s known for a while.” She inclined her head to Malcolm.

“Mother hates hospitals but she was there how many days with Gil? Call me suspicious.” Malcolm grinned. “Besides, they already know how I feel about this.”

“You’ve wanted this since you were a kid,” Gil said. “It just took a while to get there.”

Malcolm set Aziraphel on the floor and the cat nearly tripped him in thanks as he got up to give Gil a hug. Gil tugged him close, embracing him hard. Malcolm didn’t want to let go. He truly had wanted Gil to be with his mother since he was ten years old. 

“I think we should sit down to dinner. I don’t want to let it wait too long,” their mother said.

Malcolm wondered how Gil would adapt to dinners dressed up. He wasn’t a formal man by any stretch of the imagination. His time with Gil and Jackie had always been one of relaxation and chaos. But Jessica was most definitely not Jackie. Oh, she was tough but they were worlds apart. Gil, of course, knew this and obviously had managed several months of dating Jessica without incident. Malcolm did, however, wonder what it would be like to show up for Christmas without a suit on. Maybe JT was wearing off on him.

He gathered up Aziraphale while Gil hunted down Crowley. They put them in the bathroom for the time being. He and Gil helped get dinner served, or at least the soup course. Malcolm’s heart soared seeing how much his mother was smiling when she and Gil sat at the table. He exchanged a look with his sister, seeing the ‘go Mom’ shining in Ainsley’s eyes. 

“It does seem weird sitting down so early,” Gil said, spooning up some of the Italian Wedding soup that Mother’s chef had made for them.

“Early? It’s six o’clock,” his mother protested.

Gil grinned. “My father was from the Philippines. He brought some of the traditions with him. We had the Noche Buena at our house, which was a huge meal with all the relatives, and it started at midnight.”

“Wait, I thought Catholics had midnight mass,” Malcolm said.

“It’s a little different in the Philippines. They have Simbang Gabi which are masses every day either around midnight or earlier in the morning, closer to dawn, for nine days before Christmas and if you went to all nine, you were granted a wish.” Gil wrinkled his nose. “I’m suspicious of the whole wish thing especially since my father didn’t make us do that here, though we did go to a Tagalog mass when we could.”

“I don’t think I have the fortitude for that,” Jessica said. Malcolm knew none of them were particularly religious. Gil did still attend the Catholic church from time to time.

“No, not me either but I do appreciate you letting me put a parol on the door.” Gil gestured with his spoon to the relative direction of the front door.

“Oh, the one made of shells?” Malcolm asked. He had always thought the star-shaped parols he had seen at Gil’s house over many Christmases were pretty. Gil had ones made of capiz shells for outside use and of rice paper and bamboo inside the house, all of them illuminated from within. He’d have to peek out and see what it looked like on Mother’s door.

“That’s the one. I’m glad to at least get to share that tradition with you.” Gil grinned. “Besides the Noche Buena would be wasted on Malcolm.”

“Food usually is.” His mother leveled a look at him, and Malcolm shrugged. He tried with food; he really did.

“I think Malcolm ate a meatball out of his wedding soup.” Ainsley smirked.

Malcolm sighed and made a show of eating another meatball even though they were far from his favorite things. Mother’s chef made Christmas dinner an easy thing for him. The prime rib was salty and rare and a thin slice of that was enough to make everyone happy he was eating, even though what he really loaded up on was the candied yams. The honey garlic cauliflower was a surprise, sweet and spicy. Malcolm took his fair share of that hoping he wouldn’t regret it. The Anima Nera liquor aperitif he had asked to be served, distilled from licorice, helped to keep his stomach settled between courses with its spicy, velvety flavor.

“I actually made dessert,” Gil said, pushing back from the table. Malcolm grinned. Gil was a great cook who enjoyed puttering around in the kitchen. He hoped his mother appreciated that. “Let me get it.”

“He said it’s a big treat in the Philippines,” Mother said once Gil was out of the room.

“It’ll be good whatever it is,” Malcolm said with full confidence.

Gil returned with a steamer that he set on the table. He opened it to reveal rolled banana leaves. With tongs, he set a tube on each dessert plate. “It’s puto bumbong, another Christmas tradition. It’s just glutinous purple rice, brown sugar and coconut.”

“I did not know purple rice existed,” Jessica said. 

“It’s not exactly easy to find here,” Gil conceded. “Some use purple yam powder, which is good too, but I wanted it to be traditional since it’s your first time trying it. Well, Malcolm has had it before.”

“Love it, love turon too,” Malcolm said. Frankly, he liked any of the sweet Filipino rice desserts Gil cared to give him. Rice might be starchy and not particularly good for him but it was easy on his stomach. He opened his steaming banana leaf to reveal the slender purple log of rice. He broke it into bite sized pieces, popping it into his mouth greedily. He helped himself to seconds.

Malcolm helped Gil clear the table. Mother and Ainsley put away the left overs and once the dishes were in the washer to worry about at another time, they freed the cats, and lured them back into the family room with treat bags. Gil put out a mat and fed them in the corner.

Malcolm studied this tree, which wasn’t as formal and as showroom ready as the one in the formal living room or the one in the front parlor. This one had imperfect ornaments on it that he and Ainsley had made as children mixed in with the glass collectible ones. He remembered hand painting the Santa with laser focus when he was six and hating his first semester away at boarding school. He had missed his parents and wanted his little ceramic Santa to be perfect. Partially glad his mother had kept it and put it out here in the informal heart of her home, Malcolm was also sad seeing it, remembering the things he lost.

He glanced over at Gil sitting on the couch with Mother, his arm draped around her casually. He’d gained things too. He needed to remember that. He was happy and seeing his mother smile like she was tonight, every time she looked at Gil, how could he be anything but over the moon? Their happiness was the perfect gift.

“Should we open gifts now or wait a little?” Ainsley asked, pouring wine for everyone. “Any other traditions you’d like to share with us, Gil? This is one of ours.” She hefted the wine bottle.

“My family loved to go caroling but somehow I don’t see that being big with this crew.” He wrinkled his nose. “Though I’m sure we’d sound amazing. Maybe I should say, this doesn’t seem like the sort of area that would take well to caroling.”

Jessica sniffed. “They’d probably call the cops for someone disturbing their peace. I do like to sing though.”

Malcolm raised his eyebrows at Ainsley. He hadn’t known that. Had she? She shot him an ‘of course silly,’ look. “Too bad we didn’t try that in your neighborhood, Gil. Maybe next year.”

“That could be fun,” Mother said, making Malcolm smile. She was looking down the road to being with Gil for at least a year. The night continued to get better.

“If it were Christmas Day eve, I’d say let’s turn on the Doctor Who holiday special,” Gil said.

“Do I even know you?” Malcolm asked, and Gil laughed.

“Apparently not. Christmas music while the gifts are opened and watching our favorite Christmas movies is another,” Gil said.

“What is your favorite movie?” Mother asked.

“ _Die Hard_.”

“That is _not_ a Christmas movie, Gil!” she protested, pushing him as Crowley jumped up with them. To Malcolm’s utter shock, his mother didn’t shoo the cat away. In fact, she let Crowley sit in her lap. She must truly be in love to allow cat hair all over her clothes.

“It absolutely is.” Gil gazed into her eyes. “What’s yours then?”

“ _A Christmas Carol_ , especially the one with Patrick Stewart,” she replied, and Malcolm wondered at that choice. Was there something about Scrooge’s money that she identified with? Why was he profiling his family via their holiday movie picks? He really couldn’t turn it off, could he? “And you Ainsley?”

“ _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_. Malcolm?”

“ _Nightmare before Christmas_ or _Edward Scissorhands_ or if you want a good bad movie _Krampus_ I guess,” he said. Gil rolled his eyes. His mother shot him a confused look.

“Gee, I wonder why Malcolm can’t sleep.” Ainsley mirrored Gil’s eye roll as she delivered the wine to them.

“It’s better than the mix of depression and treacle that is _It’s A Wonderful Life_. Besides, telling ghost stories at Christmas is an old tradition.” He shrugged, crossing the room to turn on the cd player. Mother didn’t care for Alexa. He put some Vienna Boys’ Choir on low. 

“One we don’t need to continue. Oh, hey!” Mother cried. Malcolm turned to see Crowley trying to capture her dangling Swarovski crystal Christmas tree earrings. 

Gil rescued her, setting Crowley on the floor. “Sorry. He takes after his namesake.” Off her confused expression, he added, “Never name a cat after a demon.”

“I’m beginning to think you exaggerated how good your cats were,” she replied.

“Just a little.”

When she kissed Gil, Malcolm studied the tree, suddenly shy. He felt like a voyeur which was ridiculous. Ainsley had no issues with it, beaming ear to ear. He was glad she approved. It was always hard for him to guess what Ainsley liked. Sometimes his sister was one of the biggest mysteries in his life.

As Malcolm contemplated the possibility of finding any of the movies on Netflix – because curling up with his family and just chilling out and watching movies had such appeal – the phone rang. He jumped, looking around for where the old land line had been moved to in the Christmas decorating sweep. Gil bailed off the couch and answered it since it was near him on the bookcase. 

“Put it on speaker because if that is a telemarketer on Christmas, part of my gift is going to be chewing them into little bits,” his mother said.

Gil raised his eyebrows at her but obeyed. “Hello?”

“Sorry, Jessie my love, they had a Christmas rush on Phone time…wait, who is this?” 

Malcolm grimaced, hearing his father’s voice. Of course, something just had to come along and spoil the mood.

“Seems a bit late for a call, don’t you think, Dr. Whitly?” Gil asked, his voice placid even though his eyes were not. 

“Gil? Did my wife take holiday pity on you and invite you over?”

“Give me that.” His mother sprung off the couch and grabbed the phone out of Gil’s hand. “Stop calling here, Martin. Gil and I don’t have time for you and your nonsense. How many ways do I have to say burn in hell?” She slammed the phone back into the receiver and ran her hands down her sides, shivering. She disconnected the phone from the wall. If his father called back, it would be picked up by the other phone on the landline elsewhere in the home. “Now that that unpleasantness is over, did I hear something about opening presents?”

“Even though I was the one who asked about opening gifts next, I will say I thought we weren’t doing presents,” Ainsley said. They rarely did. It wasn’t as if they didn’t already have everything they wanted. Still they usually did get a little special something even after they said no gifts. It was like a game they played. “Luckily, I never listen,” she continued their usual holiday dance. “At least Mom did say you were coming for dinner, Gil, even if she kept everything else hidden. Shall I start?”

“Divvy them all out first so we can sit and see what everything is instead of running back and forth under the tree,” their mother suggested.

“I like that,” Gil said, getting up to help Malcolm get all the gifts distributed. 

As his mother eyed the small box Malcolm had given her, she laughed suddenly.

“What?” He eyed her.

“Just thinking about when you two were small. Ainsley would carefully unwrap each gift as if she were going to save and reuse the paper. It would be perfect. You tore through yours like the Tasmanian Devil.”

“I had enthusiasm,” he replied as Gil and Ainsley both laughed.

“You definitely had that. You were the worst child to get to sleep so Santa could come,” she said, almost wistful. As angry as she had just been at his father, Malcolm knew she still had good memories of him too, and they tormented her as much as they did to him. 

“Not much has changed then,” Gil said wryly.

“Not at all. I found him asleep by the fireplace once trying to catch Santa. I have no idea what you planned to do if you had caught him.”

“Get all the toys of course,” he replied.

“I’m surprised Krampus didn’t get you.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes at his sister. “Go ahead and open your gifts first, Ainsley.”

“I think I already have my big gift.” She waved a hand at their mother and Gil. Mom blushed and leaned against him more. “Seriously, I’m happy for you, and I know Malcolm is over the moon.”

“True.”

Still smiling, Ainsley discovered in her gifts, gift cards to her favorite coffee shop from Gil and a bottle of her favorite wine from their mother. She lifted Malcolm’s gift out of the box, a little amethyst pendant in a silver wire wrapped star. “This is neat. Where did you get this, Malcolm?”

“Our Spot, a place I visited with Dani. Her grandmother teaches yarn craft there, and I met a woman who made jewelry. I thought it was pretty.” 

“It is, thank you.” She gave him a little hug and instructed him to be the next to open gifts.

Malcolm stared at the card from his mother that had only the words, ‘They’ll be at your loft on January twelfth.’ “Who’ll be there mother?”

“The workers. I found an art museum that wants to display the large diptych that’s in your loft.” She smiled. “I know how much you hate those pieces.”

Malcolm flopped back against the couch cushions, grinning like a fool. “Oh, thank God, it’s a Christmas miracle.”

“Don’t be a smart mouth.” She eyed him. 

“You can’t blame him, Mom. Hard to…um…entertain a lady with huge religious art hanging near the bed looking at you.” Ainsley chuckled loudly. 

“Exactly.” Malcolm nodded, knowing how edited that comment was for their Mother’s ears. “And thank you, Mom. They belong in a museum anyhow.” And if he ever managed to get another lover, he wouldn’t have to worry about the art freaking them out. He opened Ainsley’s gift, which was larger than expected, and was shocked to find a big bird cage with a filigreed top under the wrapping.

“Now Sunshine has a better place to live,” Ainsley said. “If you ever get her back out of the Christmas tree.”

“Oh, Malcolm, you don’t mean to say that Sunshine is just flying free in your loft.” His mother sighed melodramatically. 

Malcolm crumpled up some of the wrapping paper into a ball and threw it to Crowley who batted it everywhere until he collided with Aziraphale who roused himself out of his tucked in ‘loaf’ long enough to bowl the slimmer Crowley over with a lazy swat. “She is free.”

She sighed again. “I’ll have the cleaning crew there at the earliest.”

“Thank you, Mother.” Malcolm smiled as he opened Gil’s gift. One was a tin of candied ginger and the other a tin of salted licorice, everything he needed to chew on to get his touchy stomach to calm down. “Perfect, Gil. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome and you know you didn’t need to get me anything, either of you, especially since we waited to the last minute to tell you I was going to be here,” Gil said.

“When haven’t I given you something?” Malcolm shrugged. 

“True.” Gil opened Ainsley’s Yankees mug first and then opened Malcolm’s eyeing it confused. He lifted out the keychain whose bauble was a narrow oval of red, white, and black swirls with some hints of blue.

“It’s Fordite,” Malcolm said quickly in case Gil hadn’t figured it out.

Gil widened his eyes, running a finger over the bauble.

“What’s Fordite?” Mom asked.

“It’s paint,” Gil said. “They don’t do cars this way anymore but they used to hand spray layer upon layer of paint on the cars, and it would build up on the tracks and get baked. Someone got the brilliant idea of not tossing it out once the tracks were cleaned off, and they started cutting it up and making jewelry and things out of it.” He turned to Malcolm, studying him intently. “How in the world did you know about it?”

“I _do_ listen to you when you’re talking about cars, Gil!” Malcolm protested. 

“So, it only looks like you’re bored out of your mind?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s never going to be my thing. Speaking of which, how do you like the new car?” Malcolm had been in on his mother buying Gil a car since he and she had both destroyed one.

“Love it.”

“It’s more fun to drive than I thought it would be,” Mom said, curling her hand over Gil’s.

“Once summer rolls back around, we can do some road trips,” Gil said.

Malcolm stared at them, catching Ainsley’s bemused expression out of the corner of his eye. He could not imagine his mother on a road trip but there was a first time for everything and judging by her expression, his mother was looking forward to trips in Gil’s ‘new’ muscle car. “Anyhow, Mother was creeped out by the rabbit’s foot keychain so I got you that one. And the keychain issue was one of the clues that you two were seeing each other.”

“Must everything be a puzzle to you?” Mother asked.

“I think so.”

“I think it’s great, thank you, kid.” Gil grinned.

Mother’s opening of her gifts was interrupted by Crowley. Gil pulled the feisty feline onto his lap so she could manage to work the velvet bag off the bottle of honey bourbon Ainsley had given her. Malcolm noticed that there was no gift from Gil and his mind tried to run wild with that. He shut it down hard. What they did behind closed doors was something he didn’t want in his head and he reminded himself he was in fact very happy about their relationship. He just didn’t need to know more than he already did.

She opened his gift of moonstone and amethyst earrings and smiled. “From the same artist?”

“Yes. I thought they were striking.”

“They are. Thank you.”

Ainsley and he cleaned up the wrapping paper while Gil absconded to the kitchen. He came back with a tray of cocoa into which the honey bourbon went. A night of movie watching and quiet family time proved to be exactly what Malcolm needed. His mind felt more settled than it had been in ages. 

When he finally went upstairs, he did just as he said he would; he checked under the bed and behind the dresser for signs of cats. He shut the door, changed into his sleep clothes, and stood in the window, headphones in hand. Snow fell softly, playing like magic in the street lights. He still had a boyish love of snow, probably because he never had to do much in the way of shoveling or driving in it for that matter. To him it retained a sort of pristine wonder. The tableau softened him, relaxed away any tight corners still inside him.

Drawing the curtain, Malcolm pulled back the thick, soft bedding. He put his headphones on the night stand just in case before strapping himself in for the night. The little boy who used to sleep in this room would have been plotting ways to sneak up on Santa. That boy would never have imagined sleeping here strapped in like a bondage dream. Malcolm felt at peace enough knowing almost everyone he loved was under this roof for the first time in ages, so much as peace that he considered ditching the cuffs. 

Deciding not to press his luck, he snuggled down into the bed. Seeing his mother and Gil spending their first Christmas a couple still made him smile. He wanted more of simple pleasures like this, to have moments when he thought anything could happen. Malcolm knew it wouldn’t last but for tonight, he would embrace the possibilities. Tonight he had hope. Tonight, he would sleep content like he hadn’t in decades. Tonight, would be a silent night.


End file.
